Akira

Her lips are so tempting. I'm trying to keep my gaze respectful.

"You can look. You want to marry me don't you?" She whispers.

Hm...I can hear her whimpers in my ears. So much for an old fashioned date. I wonder if she would resent me if I took her on the table in front of everyone?

Probably.

The waiter comes by again. His second round. There's nothing to refill. He just wants to look at her. I don't blame him, it's an understandable sentiment.

But his disrespect cannot be tolerated.

It's one thing to look at a woman. She's beautiful. A respectful glance in passing. Maybe two. But he is being...lewd. Disgusting.

"Do you notice him?" I ask him eventually. She looks up from her plate.

She likes the mashed potatoes. I'll get the recipe. Surprise her in a few weeks. She'll have forgotten this. I smile in expectation of her face when I do.

"Who?"

"The waiter."

Her fingers rest on the fork. "What should I notice?"

I lean back. "His inappropriate gazes. Did you notice them. Does he make you uncomfortable?"

I nod at one of my men at another table subtly. He nods back. She grins.

"Are you jealous?" She ask softly. Tempting me.

"Concerned. I am committed to making my small part of the world better."

She smirks, before letting a chuckle escape from her. "You make murder sound so pious. It makes me wonder. What's your list?"

I raises my brows. "List?"

"You know. Your list of crimes?"

I clear my throat. Do I want her to know? Do I even know?

"Hm...engaging in organized criminal activity. Murder in first, 406 counts. Murder in the second 573 counts. Fraud and Embezzlement, corporate malfeasance, money laundering, illegal gambling , racketeering, felony tax evasion, proxy murder 2306?"

No. The waiter. "2307 counts, aggravated assault...no. Assault and battery, 1487 counts—"

"You're still going?" She hisses with a frown.

I nod. "I'm using America's laws to make it easier. There's a few dozen more."

She shooks her head. "Maybe that was a stupid question I didn't think you'd answer."

I chuckle. "Well...in the spirit of openness..."

She looks away. "Aren't you afraid I'm trying to turn you in?"

"Turn me into who? If you'd let me finish I'd have gotten to the Federal Bribery of officials."

I shrug, taking a hasty sip from my wine.

We let the serious talk go fizzling out into small talk, reminiscing. The air hasn't changed between us.

And her nipples are still hard so I suppose...I'm still on business.

She looks at me. There's nothing to show I've changed her perception of me, not outwardly.

I smile. We finish dinner, and I take her home.

• • •

A few weeks past. Dahlia doesn't leave the house often. But when she does I make sure it's ready to receive her when she comes home. Everything is clean and tidy.

The house smells good, it's important to her. A candle lit means everything is done and nothing is to be disturbed.

She does the same for me in her way. She leaves my favorite soaps and lotions out when I come home. Makes sure there's rice in rice cooker. Fresh slippers by the door.

I think to get comfortable. She likes to know there's nothing to do. A clean house for her, rice and a bath for me.

We do little things. My heart fills with joy when I see her, so she sits on the couch when I get back.

We love each other. We don't have to say it often. We show it. She accepts me. I adore her.

Today Dahlia has gone shopping. She comes home. The house is spic and span. She smiles, noting the candle.

"I got you some new slippers," she informs me as she heads in the bedroom to change clothes and freshen up.

Then she comes to the couch, night gown on, sits on my lap, and kisses me deeply. Her tongue explores my mouth, her hands grabbing at my clothes.

She always wants me when she comes home. I think it's because I've provided for her. My mother used to say there was nothing more attractive than a competent man.

"I wanna kiss it," she whispers, her hands pulling at my pants. She bites her lips in anticipation, looking up at me once more for permission.

I give her a nod, and she does one of her favorite things: sucking me off. Why she enjoys it I don't know but I will not complain.

Dahlia presses little kisses to shaft, kitten licks to the head, before taking me in fully. I shudder. She knows me know, where I'm sensitive.

Just before she takes me all the way, before I paint her gorgeous face, she pulls away, pulls her night gown up and drags her clit against my dick. She pleasures us both, her wetness preparing me for when I inevitably fuck her raw against this table.

Her forehead rests against mine, my hand on the back of her neck, lips clashing together messily. The pleasure...I've never knew it could feel this good.

We're a perfect match and we always have been, in every way. We compliment one another.

She's so warm. Hot almost, oh I love it I love her. We're here, in this moment, her hips bucking against mine, mine against hers. She's close, trying to keep that rhythm trying so hard.

I help her there, holding her hips when she's tired, keeping in pace with the pressure, the speed she needs.

This is our love. I see to her needs, she sees to mine and when we are both satisfied, we come together.

"Inside," she begs. "Akira..."

I slip inside her, slick, warm and tight. Her walls pulse around, dragging me in deeper. She's desperate for it, for me and I for her. We cannot get enough of one another.

Being inside my flower is an god given gift. Her voice, her skin, her flesh, her body, this pussy.

I'm going to marry this woman. Give her my children.

She's mine.

"Daddy!" She clenched down, her toes curling. I smile, she's so pretty when she comes. I push her down, raising my hips to reach her deepest parts, her head flying back.

"Fuck! I love it Akira. Daddy I love it. Never stop."

I smirk. "I never will my love."

I hold her closer, my arms around her. Just like this. We stay like this for a minute. I twitch inside her, her walls milking me harder, trying to make me come undone.

"Daddy, please," she whimpers in my arms.

I can't deny her. Easing my hold I let her move once more.

Daddy, daddy please she chants in my ear. I need you, I want you, I love you. Your so good, I love your dick, I love you.

I'll have your babies, I'll marry you, fuck me harder. Slower. Deeper. More. More. More.

I always give her more. Couldn't help myself if I tried.

I come deep inside her, bend her over the coffee table, and take her again. Her nipples press against the cool glass, nails digging into the wood, as we shake the table.

But we do this often.

It can take it.

"Right there!"

I stroke inside her, my senses overwhelmed with her, body tensing up for release.

"I love you," I whisper in her ear.

"I love you," she swears.